


Truth Will Out

by dustandroses



Category: NCIS
Genre: BDSM, Drama, First Time, Friendship, Kinks, M/M, Not Episode Related, Not a Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-12
Updated: 2006-06-12
Packaged: 2019-03-02 05:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13311690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: Tony decides it's time to make some changes in his life - time to try out a few things he's always wanted to do, but never had the courage to.





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Jessi, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [ MTAC](https://fanlore.org/wiki/MTAC), an archive of NCIS fanfiction which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after August 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator (and this work is still attached to the archivist account), please contact me using the e-mail address on [ the MTAC collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/mtac/profile)

  
Author's notes: This story is for Rebecca. Chapter One was her NCIS_Tinsel present, and the rest are just \'cause Rebecca is who she is. And we\'re all better off because of it.

  


* * *

* * *

_How does it feel_  
To treat me like you do  
When you've laid your hands upon me  
And told me who you are 

_And I still find it so hard_  
To say what I need to say  
But I'm quite sure that you'll tell me  
Just how I should feel today 

Blue Monday  
New Order

 

"What do you mean, it's not bondage? Of course it is.” Tony held the 8x10 glossy in front of Abby’s face, his fingers tapping impatiently on the heavy paper as he pointed out the leather restraints holding the man in place on the bed. “Looks like bondage to me. He's _bound_ to the bed – hand and foot. This is a game that got away from them. It got too heavy, got out of control." Tony shrugged as Abby took the glossy back from him, her head shaking adamantly.

"No, Tony. I don't believe it. Just because they're using fetish gear doesn't mean this is BDSM. I mean, look at the flogger for instance; there's blood all over it. Those are _suede tails,_ Tony. They couldn’t make those kinds of marks on the human body. That's not what a flogger is for." Abby went back to her computer, and Tony followed along behind her, not ready to give up yet.

"Not what a - It’s a _flogger_ Abby, it’s for _flogging_ someone.” He grabbed the picture away from Abby for another look. “He looks pretty _flogged_ to me."

"No, he looks _dead_ , Tony. It's really hard to kill someone with a flogger - it's not what they're designed to do. We don't have the autopsy results from Ducky yet, but I can _guarantee_ you this flogger,” Abby held up the large evidence bag the flogger was sealed in, “did not even contribute to that death.” Tony stepped closer to examine the black suede flogger. He had to admit, except for the darker ones with the dried blood on them, the long suede strands did look pretty soft. 

He wanted to touch them, see what they really felt like. He wanted to ask Abby what they felt like dragged over skin. How hard you’d have to hit with something like that to leave a mark. Would it sting - like a belt? Or bruise deeply like a frat paddle? He couldn’t imagine getting a bruise from that suede, but the flogger looked well constructed – if it were swung by the wrong (right?) person, he bet it could leave a lasting impression. 

He could see what Abby was saying. The bloody wounds on the marine were deep and thin, he didn’t think anyone could wield this thing hard enough to cut like that. He wondered if he could get Abby to explain to him just exactly what a flogger was designed _for_. He’d reached out unconsciously to take the evidence bag from Abby when the door opened behind him and a familiar voice rang out. 

"That your flogger, Abby?" Tony looked around quickly and pulled his hand back as if caught doing something dirty. Gibbs stopped right next to him and offered Abby her usual monstrously large Caf-Pow!, grabbing the photo out of Tony’s hand at the same time. 

"Hey, O Wise One!” She took a big slurp out of her drink and then toasted Gibbs with it. “Thanks. This was found with the body of that marine they shipped in this morning."

Gibbs studied the photo in his hand, his head down, a frown of concentration on his face. "They can't seriously be considering that this flogger had something to do with that death, can they?" 

"Exactly my opinion, Gibbs. I don't know what they’re thinking. That would be as about as effective as trying to crack someone's skull open with a wet noodle."

Puzzled, Tony looked at Gibbs. "Hey, boss. How come you know a flogger when you see one?"

"I know a lot of things, DiNozzo. You'd do well to remember that." He handed the photo to Abby, then slapped Tony up the side of the head as he turned to leave the room. “For instance, I know that _this_ is not even our case. Why are you down here? You want to get upstairs and go to work, DiNozzo?”

“Yeah, boss. I’ll be right there.” Tony looked back at Abby as if he wanted to say something else, but Gibbs stood in the doorway, waiting for him, “ _Now_ , DiNozzo.”

Tony sighed and turned to the door, calling back over his shoulder, “Hey Abs, wanna catch lunch, later? My treat?”

“Cool. As long as it’s not at that nasty hotdog stand in the park.”

“Damn. Alright, your choice, Abby.” 

He heard her exclaim “Excellent!” as he rushed toward the elevator to catch up with Gibbs.

* * *

Tony sat back on his couch, feet on the coffee table, and pulled his laptop over to start a search, the buzz of ESPN low in the background. Bondage led to Fetishes, which led to Sado-Masochism, which led to BDSM…it was an endless circle that cut back in on itself over and over again, surrounded on all sides by porn sites and the call of the perfect orgasm. But Tony was not distracted – well, not for long, anyway. He ignored the siren call of bound silicone breasts and pouty lips that asked him to “Hit me, Daddy, you know you want to,” and instead, found his way to where the bywords of every site he went to were: “Safe, Sane and Consensual.” Well, that was a step in the right direction, at least.

He felt pretty much overwhelmed by all the catch phrases and jargon that was spouted every where he clicked. He was having real trouble trying to fit sadists, bondage, domination, masochism, submissives and discipline all into the 4 little initials of BDSM. And what about role playing, and dominatrix’s and slaves and pain and safe words and tops and bottoms and fetishes and power exchanges and ponies? ( _Ponies?_ ) And what the hell was subspace all about, anyway? He’d never worked Vice, but he’d hung out with a couple of Vice cops in Baltimore; it was difficult for him to reconcile what he was finding here with what he’d learned as a cop.

He was totally frustrated that Abby had canceled their lunch date, due to the overload of work thrust upon her. He understood, really. Speaking of slaves, she was probably still there, toiling away. She’d promised to come over when she was done, if she had the energy, but when he’d brought her that last Caf-Pow! before he left, he told her not to worry about it. He could see how drained she was; she was definitely going to need every bit of sleep she could get tonight. But he really needed her advice, slogging through all this crap. He needed someone to help him dig through this and sort out some answers.

He’d had his fantasies since he was a teen. It wasn’t like he was really into the pain; he’d known since college that what turned him on about this stuff was the loss of control. _Giving_ control to someone else. Power exchange? Hmmm…maybe. He’d put that on top of the list of things to do more research on later. It wasn’t like he was afraid of all this, but every time in the past that he’d come close to it, he’d ended up with an excuse not to delve too deeply into why he found certain aspects of all of this attractive. 

As a teen, it had been easy to sort out: he’d desperately wanted to fit into the mold his father had built for him. So he listened to the old man’s prejudices and preconceived notions and done his best to fit in. He went for the girls, the grades, the sports, the acclaim of his father and everyone his father had deemed important. By the time he made it to college, he’d realized he could never be what his father wanted, so he’d gone out of his way to piss the old man off. But he’d still been afraid to go too far from the only things he knew, so he’d stuck with the basics: fraternities, more girls, more sports, more of what everyone thought he should be. 

A couple of times his frat bros had come close to uncovering his fantasies, but he’d quickly learned that some things never really change: being different meant being an outsider, and there was nothing he’d wanted more desperately than to belong. So the fantasies stayed in the closets. They only came out late at night, when he was safely under the bed sheets. 

Then he’d been a cop. What better excuse to not delve too deeply into what he and everyone else, in and out of the Vice Squad, thought of as perversion? By then, he’d pretty much suppressed the largest part of it. Refused to admit to even himself what he really wanted. 

But truth will out, as the saying goes. So he’d wake up in the middle of the night, hard and shaking, remembering dreams of being tied up and forced to submit to faceless people, male and female both. He’d ache with the desire to give up everything he had, everything he was, for the chance to give pleasure to someone else. The need to be used by someone, give himself completely to someone, be cared for and nurtured by someone, _anyone_ , would keep him awake for the rest of the night. 

In the end, he decided it was all about the sex. Forget about that other stuff. Concentrate on getting laid. If he got laid often enough, the dreams would go away. It hadn’t totally worked, but it had helped. And when he woke up hard and aching in the middle of the night, it was okay to think about it, fantasize about it, as long as he didn’t _do_ anything about it, right?

So he’d jerk off, and think about the dreams, and if truth be told, even invent a few new ones. He’d imagine himself tied to his bed, while he ate out a woman who sat facing his feet, twisting his nipples and torturing his cock. He imagined himself on his knees; hands tied behind his back, while a man shoved his cock down his throat, fucking Tony’s mouth. He imagined being bent over a chair as a woman fucked him with a strap-on, while he licked his own come out of her cupped hand. He imagined rimming some guy, feeling his hairy balls slap on his chin while Tony jerked the guy off. 

And after he came, harder than he ever came with any of his countless and interchangeable women, he’d fall asleep to thoughts of being held and cherished and taken care of; hands running through his hair, arms wrapped around him, feeling safe, secure, like he belonged there. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to try and tell himself he didn’t know what _that_ was all about. He may be able to convince others he was dense, but _he_ knew better. It was all part and parcel of the same things he looked for when he was awake: security, approval, acceptance, belonging, love. But when he was awake, he knew what he could honestly hope for, and what he might as well get used to doing without. “Happily ever after” was only for fairy tales and Hollywood – you take what you can get and you get by.

But that was _then_. Before he’d had the time to examine death close up in the form of Y Pestis. Before he’d watched Kate die right in front of him, a little round hole in her forehead. He’d always known he would die someday, and he always thought he’d die the way Kate did, the way a cop was supposed to die: in the line of duty. But standing there as they lowered Kate’s coffin into the ground he’d had a revelation. No more hiding. No more worrying what others would think. No more hating himself for the feelings he couldn’t stop. This time, he was going after what he wanted. 

Maybe he’d never get it. There was no way to guarantee that he’d find who or what he needed to finally be satisfied in life. Could anyone ever be totally satisfied in life, anyway? But he wasn’t going to die without trying. He wouldn’t be stupid about it. He wasn’t going to shout it from the rooftops or anything. “I’m a bisexual pervert and proud of it! Please! Tie me up and fuck me!” No. He liked his job, he wanted to stay there. If there was ever any place in the real world he really felt he belonged, this job was that place. All that meant was that he just had to be careful, be smart. 

But he had seen that flogger, today, and all these feelings had welled up inside him. He was going to go for what he wanted. No matter what happened, at least he could say he had tried. He shifted on the couch, trying to find a comfortable way to sit with his dick half hard in his pants. That was going to be the difficult part: how the hell was he going to talk to Abby about this without getting a hard-on? He couldn’t even read the boring, all text sites without getting a boner. He told his cock he’d deal with it later, and clicked on a new link: _Alternative Sex for Beginners: A Glossary of Terms_. That looked promising.


	2. Tuesday

  
Author's notes: You may have seen a shorter verion of Tony\'s Dream Sequence in Oxoniensis\' Porn Battle - Round One. It had to be edited to fit into one Live Journal Comment (4200 characters including spaces.) This is the unexpurgated version.  


* * *

* * *

_There’s no time to lose, I heard her say_  
Catch your dreams before they slip away  
Dying all the time  
Lose your dreams  
And you will lose your mind.  
Ain’t life unkind? 

Ruby Tuesday  
– The Rolling Stones

 

Abby yelled voiceless frustration at the walls of her lab. It just wasn’t right. Tony needed her, and she was stuck in the lab _again._ She wouldn’t be able to go out for lunch after all – the second day in a row that she’d had to let him down. She much preferred to work alone, but there were times it was important to be able to leave the lab, even in the middle of crucial, if ill-timed, tests. 

Tony was desperate to talk to her, she could tell, although why, he’d kept from her, so far. Which was part of the reason it was so important. He never kept _anything_ from her. Well, except for his bi-sexuality, which was frustrating. She knew, of course, but that was because of her Extra-Sensory Powers, as her Granny had always called them. 

Oh, she knew she wasn’t really psychic – for the most part, anyway – but she was extremely good at intuiting what was going on behind the masks that most people wore. So she knew Tony liked the boys, too. It had always frustrated her that despite her _extremely_ broad hints, he’d never admitted it to her. He’d always kept that one wall up between them. She wondered if that was what this was all about. But she didn’t think so. 

There was more to it than bisexuality, and Abby was beginning to wonder if there was more hiding behind that wall than she’d thought. There was something else, and she was determined to figure it out. And if he wouldn’t come out and say it, she’d get it from him the hard way. She knew where all his ticklish spots were, and she wasn’t afraid to use them. But she didn’t think she’d need them. He was coming to her after all, he needed to talk, he _needed_ her, and she wasn’t going to let him down. She’d figure out something.

Abby was thinking about Tony so hard that she almost missed one of her babies’ bells going off. That would simply not do. Her mind had to be clear, so she could concentrate on her job. She usually didn’t have much problem with multi-tasking, but this was an unusual case; she was going to have to put Tony’s problem aside for a while and give this her total attention. 

She wondered idly if Palmer could be talked into running out for another CafPow! She’d finished off her first one _hours_ ago. Palmer. Now there was an idea… Before she knew it, she was bouncing along to the music, head keeping the rhythm, a big smile on her face. Yes. She thought this might just do the trick. Her baby caught a 9 point match on that partial thumbprint she’d been searching for and Abby did a couple of cartwheels across the floor in celebration. Things were definitely looking up!

* * *

As Tony walked into the lab, he realized something was wrong. He scanned the room carefully. Abby was no where to be seen, but that wasn’t all _that_ unusual. They usually let her out on weekends and holidays, according to her at least, although the cord tying her to her lab was sturdy and could be used to pull her back at any moment. But there was something different, today, and he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

He moved further into the room and called out: “Abby?” A head popped up over the top of a counter covered with equipment that Tony knew less than nothing about. 

Bright eyed and with red ties flying in her pigtails, Abby stood up and called out: “Yo, Tony – over here. Come on over, Dude!”

A couple of long, chest high storage cabinets had been pulled out from the wall, far enough for 3 or 4 people to hide behind, if for some reason they’d want to, and he guessed Abby must want to. She disappeared behind the cabinetry again.

“Did I interrupt spring cleaning, Abby?” Intrigued, Tony peeked around the cabinet to find Abby pulling napkins and paper plates out of a large covered picnic basket. She was sitting on a red and white checked table cloth spread on the floor, and he could smell food – something fried?

“Grab some floor, Tony, you’re just in time. The chicken is still warm.”

“Fried chicken?” He asked, hopefully.

“You betcha! Sit down, DiNozzo, it’s time for lunch.” She handed him a plate and fork with a grin and a sparkle in her eye, and was thrilled to see the huge smile that spread across his face. 

“Abby! But I thought I was taking you out?”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately I can’t really leave the lab today, so we’re eating in, instead.” She pulled out several deli containers, opening them as she did – potato salad, coleslaw, baked beans – “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna have to interrupt lunch a couple of times, but only for a moment each time. I just wanted to apologize for ignoring you yesterday, and then today turned out a mess…”

“Abby, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble. I totally understand -”

“I didn’t do all that much, Tony, just order the food over the phone. Ducky let Palmer out of Autopsy long enough to go shopping and pick up the food, and he even helped me set it all up. It was easy.” 

She held out the box of fried chicken to him and Tony sank to his knees almost worshipfully and carefully took the box from her. He opened it reverently, holding it to his chest and sniffing deeply. “Mmmm…comfort food. Abby, this is just perfect!” He blinked at her solemnly for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was low and scratchy. “I think I love you.” 

She grinned. “I think you’re sublimating.”

He took another deep sniff, “I’ve always wondered – are you psychic?”

“Nah, not most of the time, anyway. It just seemed right for a picnic, you know? I did good, huh?”

“Oh, Abby, you did perfect.” Tony reached over to pull his plate closer, without relinquishing his hold on the fried chicken box. “Thank you.” He grinned ear to ear, feeling more relaxed than he had in - _forever_. He sighed as he loaded his plate with some of everything and caught the bottle of lemonade Abby tossed his way. Finally relinquishing the box of chicken so Abby could hunt for a chicken wing, he bravely left it on the floor between them instead of grabbing it back. It would be safe there. 

A nice secluded spot, private from prying eyes, a picnic for two and – he finally realized what had been bugging him since he walked into the lab. “Is that New Orleans Jazz on the boombox?”

“Like that? I’d almost forgotten I had it here, and I was rummaging around to find something right for the mood, and whammo! This one just hit me. Perfect.”

“Yeah, perfect, Abby. Thank you.”

Abby smiled around her chicken wing and they ate in companionable silence for a while. But eventually, she pointed her potato salad laden fork at Tony, and asked: “Well, what’s up?”

Tony sighed again. Well, he knew he was going to have to say it eventually, even though he hated to break the peace that had descended between them.

“Make yourself comfortable, Abs – this may take a while.”

Abby grinned and settled in, her back against the wall, long legs in front of her and her Doc Martens crossed at the ankle, “Cool! I love a long, involved story…”

* * *

“I don’t get it. So where does the flogger fit in, then?” She picked out a chicken leg and bit in, crunchy skin crackling as she sighed with delight. Tony agreed. There’s nothing like a good piece of fried chicken to lift your spirits, he decided as he put down his fork and reached for his napkin.

“The flogger is symbolic, more than anything, Abby. I’m not really interested in _pain_ as such, although if I were to try that out, a flogger might be a good place to start. Speaking of – what did you figure out about that marine? Was it a single tail that caused all those marks?” He opened another bottle of lemonade and poured them both some while Abby answered his question with another question.

“I thought you didn’t know anything about that stuff, Tony. What gives?”

“Well, I had time on my hands last night, so I pulled up some research.” He shrugged. “Just curious, you know?”

“Just curious. Yes, it was a single tail, but they haven’t found it, yet. That wasn’t what killed him, anyway. He actually suffocated. The collar was pulled so tight, he couldn’t breathe. So what else did you find out while you were doing your research?” Abby’s eyes sparkled, Tony could tell she was dying to know. “Come on, out with it, bud!”

“Okay. So does the phrase ‘Dom/sub’ mean anything to you?”

She grinned, and her eyes got bigger. “Ooohh, Tony! Interested in a little sub action, are we? Cool! This should be _lots_ of fun.”

“Yeah, well it’s not going to be as easy as you think, Abby, that’s the whole problem. I mean look at me. I’m a poster boy for heterosexual normality, here. I’m not just going to slide into this whole thing without a second thought. I’m used to things the way they are.”

“You know, Tony, both sexes like the games, it’s not just one or the other. Unless…” She cocked her head to the left, eyes narrowed, like she could see farther than skin deep. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Tony? Something I should know about your sexuality, perhaps?”

Tony found he couldn’t face her at the moment. He felt like he’d lied to her, one of his closest friends, but he really hadn’t, he’d just avoided the whole issue.

“Well…I may not be quite as - _heterosexual_ \- as I’ve always led you to think. I mean I like women, don’t get me wrong, I _love_ women! But I guess I’ve always – well, women are just half the equation, you know?” He was tearing his napkin into tiny little pieces, dropping them one by one onto the blanket.

“There’s nothing wrong with being bi, Tony. How long have you known?”

“Oh, I guess since I was 14…15. Something like that. But I’ve never done anything about it. That’s the thing. I’m totally lost as to how to go about this. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed here, Abby; I don’t know where to start.”

Abby reached for his hands, pulling what was left of the napkin out of them and dropping it on the pile of shredded paper. “Tony, look at me.” He looked in her eyes, and was relieved to see only concern, not pity for the clueless idiot he felt like. “You just need to move slowly, bro. Don’t go jumping in with both feet. And remember, I’m here if you need me. I’ve got your back, Tony. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” 

She squeezed his hands, and he smiled, relieved. He knew Abby would make him feel better about all this. He was counting on her to help him sort it all out. He hoped he wasn’t depending on her for too much. But Abby had always been there for him. He knew she’d do her best to help.

“So,” she asked, reaching for another biscuit, “where do you want to start? You want to get into the scene first, or start out with some vanilla boys and then advance to the kinky stuff as you go?”

“Well, I _was_ thinking about the guys first. You know? Then, when I started to get into the D/s I’d already be familiar with that and it wouldn’t throw me, but…”

“But? But?” She pointed at him with her half eaten biscuit. “Don’t leave me hanging, Tony…not fair! Give!”

“Well, I had this dream last night, Abby. It was…something else. I’m sure it was due to all the BDSM sites I’d been searching, but – well, there was this man. He wasn’t any bigger or stronger than me, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to overpower me physically. All it took was his presence. I just knew he was in charge. That he would make the decisions, tell me what to do. Take care of me-” 

Tony broke off, aware that he’d revealed more than he wanted to about himself. He felt ashamed, there were some things even Abby didn’t need to know. He’d rather nobody knew just exactly how pathetic he really was. He turned away, thinking maybe he should get up and leave, but going back to work feeling this vulnerable wasn't a good idea, either.

Suddenly he had a lapful of Abby, her arms around him, cradling his head. “Oh, Tony. I understand. Really, I do. Sometimes you just need someone to stand between you and all the bad stuff out there. Someone to offer you a place of refuge outside the real world. Someone you know you can count on. Someone you can trust. Don’t worry, Tony, we’ll find him for you. He’s gotta be out there, we just have to know where to look. Okay?”

He hugged Abby tight, and held on, sighing, as she ran her fingers through his hair. “We’ll find him, you’ll see.” He should have known that Abby would understand and not judge him or see him as weak. They sat there for a few minutes, Tony’s head on her shoulder, just enjoying the closeness.

* * *

“I don’t know who he is. But I recognize him, and I am aware of the power he has over me. It’s not a physical thing, although my wrists are tied behind my back and I’m blindfolded. But he doesn’t need those things. I know he could make me do whatever he wanted using only the sound of his voice.” 

Tony’s own voice is low and velvet as he remembers the dream. He’s surprised by Abby’s shiver, he hadn’t thought about how this might affect her. That thought actually makes him grin – it doesn’t seem right that Abby can get as horny as she likes. As long as she keeps her nipples covered, she’s alright. He, on the other hand, has to work to control the ache in his groin; the last thing he needs here at work, is a hard-on.

“I’m on my knees, totally naked, and he’s circling around me. He talks some, not a lot and it’s very low – I have to struggle to hear what he says. But I’m afraid not to hear him because I know every word he says is important. Sometimes, he touches me lightly as he circles around or stops behind me to blow across the hairs on the nape of my neck, or on my cheek or forehead.

“It all happened in flashes, Abby, or at least that’s all I can remember. It’s hard to describe, but I know how I felt about it. It was the single most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced – he’d barely touched me, but my heart was pounding, my body alternately flushed hot and chilled by my nervous sweat. But I was so hard I thought I’d come if he ever truly _touched_ me.

“But I didn’t, obviously, because the next thing I remember, I’m sucking him off – or more like it, he’s fucking my mouth. There wasn’t much I could do about it, tied up like I was, but it didn’t matter – it was incredibly erotic. When I woke up - ” He paused, and his face flushed bright red. “When I woke up, I’d come all over myself.”

“Oooo, a wet dream!”

“Not funny, Abby, I haven’t had one of those since I was in my teens. That’s how I know how _serious_ this is. I need to do something, and soon! I don’t think this is going away.

“But last night, all those sites, all the bullshit – it was really difficult to tell it all apart. I’m not really into pain. I mean, a little can be erotic, I guess, but I get hurt enough just doing my job, I don’t need any more of that.”

“What about bondage? You know – handcuffs, leather restraints, silk ties; you didn’t seem to have a problem with that in the dream.”

“No I _don’t_ have a problem with _that_. Over the years, I've had dreams about being tied up in many different ways. I think that's about a loss of power, right? Being at someone else's mercy, that kind of thing?"

“But that’s not the main thing for you?”

“No – it’s all about the other person; the one holding all the strings, the one in control.”

“Tony, have you ever heard the phrase ‘Power Exchange’?”

“Yeah, I saw that a couple of times last night. I marked it for further study, but then I fell asleep and…well, you know. So I just took a shower and went to bed instead. Why? Should I check into that one?”

“Most definitely. I - ”

There was a loud buzzing noise, and Abby jumped up. “My baby is calling me, Tony. Sorry – I’ll be right back, okay?”

While she was gone, he contemplated the words ‘Power Exchange.’ One site he’d visited had called it ‘the willing exchange of power.’ He had an idea of what that must be about. He would have to willingly give up control to someone else. Despite all the trappings of force, it would have to be his decision in the end. 

He thought about that for a bit. Handcuffs, ties – being held down by someone as strong as himself – that wasn’t what was important for him. What Tony wanted was someone who could take what he had to give, could hold on to him, and make him know that he was safe in their hands. He shivered, thinking of that anonymous man touching his skin like it belonged to him. Like _Tony_ belonged to him. He felt a kind of pulse inside, like his heart had just turned over and started beating after a prolonged rest. He felt himself begin to harden to the rhythm of that heartbeat.

Shit! He quickly started to run “The Glass Bottomed Boat” through his head, scene by scene – he’d discovered long ago, it was impossible for him to maintain a hard-on in the presence of Doris Day. He began to get himself back under control and sighed as Abby came back and flopped down.

She picked up her plate, then stared at him, a frown wrinkling her brow. “Alright, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, now,” he answered, relieved at his timing. “But I think I’ve got part of it figured out.”

“What part?”

“The ‘why it needs to be a man and not a woman’ part. Why the most erotic and satisfying of my dreams are about men. I need the strength, the power of a man.” He quickly continued on, before Abby could say anything. “Not as force. I don’t want to be forced into anything. But I’m looking for someone who has the potential to protect, to keep me safe when I feel out of control. The problem is going to be trust, isn’t it? Who can I trust with my body? Hell, it could be my whole life in their hands if I chose the wrong person. Trust is crucial to this, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. If you don’t feel safe handing over everything to a Dom, then it just won’t work, no matter how hard he tries.” She glanced at her watch, then started putting things back in the picnic basket. “Come on; help me clean up this mess before you have to get back upstairs. Gibbs would not be happy if you were late. Why he’d tan your hide, but good – Tony!” 

He looked up at her in surprise – just as her words hit him, and he realized what she was thinking. “Oh, no! No, no, no! Abby, you have got to be crazy. No. Put it out of your mind, right now. I mean it.”

“Tony, think about it. It’s just perfect! I mean, really. Who do you know you can trust more than you trust Gibbs? And even if he’s not into Domination, who cares – it’s Gibbs, he’ll dominate you no matter what, it’s just who he is. He already does. All of us. Of all the team leaders I work with, who do I answer to first? Who is the only one who is Bossman? He’s perfect, Tony! Perfect!”

“Abby!” The sound of Gibbs’ voice echoed through her lab, making them both start.

“Abby? DiNozzo? Where the hell are you two?”

Two heads popped up from behind the storage cabinets at exactly the same moment. “Over here, Bossman! We were just talking about you!”

Tony ground her name out threateningly under his breath. “Abby…”

“Were you telling DiNozzo to get his ass back to work? Isn’t your lunch over by now, DiNozzo?”

“Not yet, he’s still got 5 minutes – I’m counting.” 

Gibbs stalked in their direction. “So you were telling Tony you’d send up my test results with him when he came up, right?” He stopped abruptly as he came around the storage cabinets. “What the hell is all this?”

“We were having a picnic. Want to join us? We’ve still got plenty. Fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw-”

“Lemonade?” Gibbs stood over the basket, staring in, shaking his head.

“Oh, Tony, we forgot the cherry pie! Hurry, we’ve got five minutes to eat desert.” She dropped down to her knees and started cutting into the pie. 

“Maybe I should take mine upstairs with me, Abby, I really need to get back to work.”

“Yeah, he does,” Gibbs growled.

“Will you take up a piece for McGee, too? Oh, and I guess Ziva might like one…”

“Cherry pie?” Gibbs was sounding more interested, and less angry. Abby looked up at him, and pursed her lips, then looked over to Tony, who was helping clean up their mess, putting away deli containers, gathering up trash. He ignored the look in Abby’s eyes. 

“Well, I guess you could have one, too, Gibbs. But you have to be nice to Tony, all afternoon.”

“Do what?”

“Abby!” Tony was slowly shrinking down to the floor in embarrassment. “Shut up!”

“Nice, but firm. Discipline is good, but no yelling without provocation, okay?”

“Abby. Shut. Up. Now.” Tony ground the words out between clenched teeth, his face dark red from his embarrassed flush. 

“Oh, alright, Tony. But we will continue this conversation, later. Give me a call, before you leave, okay?” She handed him a plate full of cherry pie, and gave Gibbs the napkins, plastic forks and extra plates. As the two of them headed out of the lab, she waved, “Bye guys! Play safe!”

Tony could hear her chortling all the way to the elevator.

Gibbs punched the up button, and fortunately the elevator was there in moments. The awkward silence stretched between them, so that even entering the elevator and watching Gibbs push the floor button was a welcome relief. Then silence descended again.

“Discipline?” The word seemed to come out of nowhere, and Tony jumped. 

“What?”

“Discipline. Abby thinks I should discipline you?”

“What? No. That was just a joke, boss. Just Abby. You know Abby. You never know what will come out of her mouth at any time. I mean, really-” Tony broke off; he knew he was rambling, he just had no idea what to say.

“Then what’s wrong with you, DiNozzo? Your face is about 4 shades of red, and you’re staring at the floor, you won’t even look at me. Something is going on. Give it up.”

Fortunately, the elevator doors chose that moment to open, and Tony practically ran through the bull pen, headed for his desk, where he successfully distracted everyone with pie. But he kept his eye on Gibbs all afternoon, because every time he looked up, it seemed that Gibbs was staring at Tony, eyes narrowed, brow creased. 

Tony prayed that Gibbs was just frustrated; that he really didn’t know what was going on. It was with a great sense of relief that they snagged a case around three o'clock, giving Gibbs something else to concentrate on.

* * *

_Tony’s hands are clenched behind his back, the leather cuffs tight, but not uncomfortably so. The blindfold is just a little loose, and pale yellow light leaks underneath the bottom edge. He closes his eyes to it. It’s distracting him, and he needs to use his other senses; needs to concentrate on what’s happening in the room around him_

_The touch is light and fleeting, warm skin against chilled, leaving a burning sensation across his shoulder blades, trailing like fire. Hot breath puffs on his cheek; he lifts his face to it, but it’s already gone. He can hear the man now, as he moves – very softly, but he’s not hiding the sound anymore. He turns his head to follow the sound, but a solid smack to his bare ass reminds him he’s been told not to move._

_He gasps in shock, then tries to calm his breathing. It’s harder to hear the footsteps over his labored breath. He’s directly in front of Tony, now. Standing still, hands ghosting over his face, his neck, down across his collarbone. He can feel the air shift, but that’s all. Then suddenly, there’s a mouth on his nipple, sucking hard, and he fights to not moan out loud and arch into the heat of that wet mouth. He doesn’t want to break any more rules._

_He cries out loud when the sucking turns to a bite, then the teeth are gone. So is the mouth. He’s breathing faster now, unsure of what will happen. He’s finding it so hard to stay quiet. He gulps in air and bites down on his lip when the hand strikes his ass again. Both cheeks this time, one right after the other. It’s a struggle, but he manages to not move, not make a sound. Something moves over his lower lip; he recognizes a thumb rubbing and unclenches his jaw to try and relieve the pressure._

_“Open.” The voice is deep; it resonates throughout his entire body, leaving him tingling. Tony doesn't hesitate; the voice is one of command, one he knows and obeys without thought. Warm, calloused flesh runs over his lip. It stings slightly, and he realizes he must have broken the skin with his teeth. The thumb rubs across his tongue – salty, faint taste of soap, the coppery taste of his own blood._

_“Suck it.” He closes his mouth over it, rubbing his tongue across the pad as he sucks it into the warmth, losing himself in the mindless pleasure as the thumb moves in and out, fucking his mouth while the rest of the hand cups his cheek, stroking softly._

_“Enough. Let go now.” He does so, sighing reluctantly.  
“On your knees.”_

_He drops before he even realizes what he’s doing, and winces as his knees hit the hard wooden floor. He doesn’t let out a sound, though, and is proud of himself for that. He’s learning. Fingers run through his hair, and he leans into the touch, and then freezes as he realizes what he’s doing._

_But the deep, rich voice sounds tolerant, almost amused: “It’s all right. You can move, now. You’re going to need to. But no noise.” He shakes his head, keeping it bowed, respectful. “Spread your knees more. Yes. That’s better. Back straight.” He hears the ratcheting noise of a zipper, and his heart beats louder. He opens his mouth unasked and hears low, rumbling laughter._

_“What a good boy you are. Now give me your tongue.” He sticks it out, and feels slick skin run across. He licks, the tip rubbing across the bundle of nerves at the bottom of the corona. “Yes, good. Good. Now suck.” He closes his mouth around the tip, sucking gently as he continues to stroke with his tongue. He feels the hands on his head, guiding him, the thick cock sliding in a little more with each thrust._

_He makes a startled noise of surprise when the head hits the back of his throat, but those firm hands are gentle, backing him up just a bit, until he feels comfortable again. He sucks harder, hollowing out his cheeks as he runs his tongue along the underside, caressing the vein that pulses down the length of the cock._

_The hands grip his head harder, he can hear the labored breathing coming from above him as the thrusts come closer together, more forceful. He presses his tongue up, pushing that thick cock against the roof of his mouth, hoping to intensify the sensations, and it must work, because suddenly the cock freezes in his mouth, and the hands clench spasmodically against his head._

_He puts on one last spurt of effort, sucking so hard his head aches from the pressure, and he’s rewarded by a groan that makes him shudder as his mouth is filled with thick, salty-bitter come. Tony swallows it down as fast as he can, but he feels some leak out and run down his chin. He keeps licking, sucking, cleaning the softening cock until it slides from his mouth as the man above him takes a step back._

_One hand caresses his head as the other moves down, wiping the come off his chin._

_“Open.” He does and that same thumb slips inside. Tony sucks the still warm come off, licking it thoroughly, making sure it’s clean before relinquishing it._

_He shudders again as that deep laughter shakes him inside out; one last glide of a strong hand through his hair._

_“Good boy.”_

 

Tony woke with the sound of that deep voice resonating in his mind. _“Good boy.”_ He was so hard that he felt like he’d explode if he didn’t come right then. He wrapped his hand around his cock, the feel of that other cock in his mouth, those heavy hands in his hair and all it took was two strokes. He came so hard that it hurt, pulling him off the mattress, his back arching as he cried out loud. 

He fell back against the pillow, his stomach and chest covered with his come. Remembering the thumb on his chin, he swiped his fingers across his belly, bringing them to his lips. His tongue flicked out, licking his fingers clean. Shuddering, he reached over and grabbed a handful of tissues off his bedside table. He wiped himself off and tossed them into the trash, then curled up, pulling the blankets over his shoulders. 

Tony closed his eyes. It was like he was still in the dream; dark behind his eyelids. He thought of those strong, warm hands pulling him in, wrapping around him and holding him close. He felt those fingers run through his hair, that deep voice murmuring softly as he drifted off to sleep. 

_“Good boy.”_


End file.
